


jackpot

by inevitabletony



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (not in the slightest bit angsty), Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), temporary memory loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitabletony/pseuds/inevitabletony
Summary: “No, Rich, I’m your husband.”“You’re my husband?” Richie asked in disbelief, struggling to push himself up to sit upright, “Holy shit. How the fuck did I manage that. Are you a model? You look like a- like a fuckin’ model.”aka: richie wakes up from surgery and hits on his husband





	jackpot

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on that viral vid from a few years ago where a man woke up after surgery and forgot his wife and it was teaming with reddie potential

“Hey,” Eddie sat up from the plastic chair he had been slumped over in for about an hour, “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” Richie looked down at the IV attached to his arm and the heart monitor stuck to his chest, blinking blearily, “What the fuck happened to me?”

“You got your tonsils taken out,” Eddie said, “You shouldn’t be in any pain though, you’re on morphine.”

“Oh yeah,” He grinned, “I can feel the morphine. Feels nice. I should always be on this shit.”

“I think the police would take issue with that,” Eddie replied. 

“Fuck the police,” Richie said absentmindedly, squinting at Eddie, “Who are you? Are you my doctor?”

Despite being warned about the probable disorientation and possible memory loss Richie may experience shortly after waking up, Eddie panicked for a split second at not being recognized, it was impossible not to think about those twenty-seven years they lived without each other. Missing a part of themselves without even knowing it. 

“No, Rich, I’m your husband.”

“_You’re_ _my husband_?” Richie asked in disbelief, struggling to push himself up to sit upright, “Holy shit. How the fuck did I manage that. Are you a model? You look like a- like a fuckin’ model.”

“I’m a risk analyst,” Eddie smiled despite himself, “And yeah, I’m  _ your _ husband.”

“Oh man, have we kissed yet?” Richie asked excitedly, slightly slurring his words, “Have we fucked? We’ve totally fucked!” Richie fist pumped weakly, “That is awesome,” He dropped back onto the hospital bed, laying his head on the pillow, staring at Eddie, “My life is awesome,” He informed Eddie before he realized something, “What’s your name?”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie,” Richie repeated, “Eddie. Spaghetti. Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie would think this was the morphine talking if he didn’t know his husband. “Eds!”

“Don’t call me Eds,” He groaned, “Your ability to know exactly what annoys me without even knowing me is astounding. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t annoyed, really.”

“How long have we been married, baby?” Richie asked, more sedated than his usual self, “Do we call each other baby?”

“Sometimes,” Eddie ran his hand through Richie’s hair, “And we’ve been together for a very long time.”

“I hit the fuckin’ jackpot,” Richie mumbled, “Your teeth are perfect, man. Here-” He grabbed at Eddie’s arm, tugging, “Turn around, lemme see your ass.”

“Rich,” Eddie pushed his arm away with a laugh, “ _ Later. _ ”

“Promise?” 

“I swear.” Eddie took Richie’s hand, smiling fondly at his endearingly drugged up husband, who was grinning toothily back at him. 


End file.
